The 70th Hunger Games: Broken&Faraway
by alluringredamancy
Summary: His lips began to trace mine and I could feel myself slipping away from reality. I let out a shaky breath after I pulled away. He stared at me, almost cautiously, and I looked down. "I don't want to lose you," I whispered. "I die, you live. That's how it'll work." "No," He replied, running his fingers through my hair. "We both get out alive. Okay?" "How?" "We'll figure it out."


I sat up and stretched, glancing around sleepily in both directions. "Laysa?" I looked over and faked a smile at my little brother, Adam. It was probably noon or so, but it felt like the middle of the night. He looked scared, and his bottom lip was a bright red from him nervously biting it. No one could blame him. It was his first year entering his name in for The Reaping and I knew he would be okay, but he clearly wasn't so sure. I opened my arms and he ran into them like he always had when he was younger.

"It'll be alright," I murmured softly, ruffling his dark brown hair. He glanced up at me with his bright green eyes and nodded. "How's Dad? Have you checked on him?" This was always hardest on him-even harder than it was on us. Giving us up to the power of the Capitol killed him inside. Within a few hours, we would be forced to stand in separate lines, get our fingers pricked and printed, and gravely wait for our peers to be called up onto the platform. I grimaced at the idea.

"I think he's okay," He replied quietly, then pulled away. "I should get ready, I guess." With that, he was out of our room in a hurry. I let out a sigh and swung my legs over the mattress, putting my hair into a semi-neat bun. I stared blankly at the rack of old fashioned dresses that my mom had made me before she had passed. I picked one at random and slid it onto my body. Turning, I stared at my figure in the cracked mirror that decorated a bland corner of my room. I looked so tired, though I guess I was, and worn out. The pastel pink of the dress emphasized my pale skin, but that was okay. I wasn't looking to impress anyone.

I slipped on my only pair of flats and headed to the kitchen. Father was standing leaned against the counter, staring into nothing. I forced a smile and walked up to him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. "Hi," I looked at him, and he responded by chuckling a little. It was fake, though.

"I'm ready!" I jumped at the excitement of my brother's voice. He came out, and I grinned as I saw his tie incorrectly knotted. He rolled his eyes. "I know, I know. Help?" I nodded and walked to him, kneeling down to meet his eyes. My nails, or stubs rather, twisted in the best way they knew how, and then pulled so the tie fit the collar appropriately. He thanked me, then turned to our father and let out a sigh. "Ready?"

It was hot and muggy, and my dress felt like it was soaking in way too much sun. I stared ahead of me and towards the other girls in my line. Some wore black, others wore pale shades of gray. My dress was the only color that really stood out, which made me a little uncomfortable. I turned to my right and saw Adam standing, fumbling at his slacks that were still too long on him. I lifted my lips as he saw me, and he returned the same expression.

"Ladies and gentlemen of District 12!" A joyful voice boomed. I looked ahead again to see Effie Trinket, with her long pastel blue hair hanging to her knees, jumping up and down excitedly. She wore silver heels and bright red lipstick, along with long, fake white eyelashes. "Welcome to the 70th Reaping for The Hunger Games!" She clapped, but no one joined. No one ever joined. She did some talking about the glory of the Capitol, about President Snow and his incredible reign to power, and other points posing as obvious propaganda. "But, I suppose we will get right to it!" She grinned at the Peace Keepers, as if they were supposed to be just as excited as she was.

Haymitch stumbled forward, laughing. "Whoa, 70th Hunger Games, already? Time flies, huh?" He laughed a bit, then lifted a silver flask to his lips, and stumbled into a metallic chair behind Effie. She laughed awkwardly and then continued her way to the large and pink tinted ball.

"As always, ladies first," I looked around, feeling my stomach turn. She spun her colorful nails around and around until she pulled out a single slip of silver paper. She let out a sigh and stepped towards the microphone. "Alaysa McKenna." My heart stopped.


End file.
